The Coward - A Short Story

A young man is sentenced to death for his cowardice. He is given one chance at redemption, but it proves trickier than he thought. 8000 words. Reviews, ratings, and advice wanted.

The Coward

By Herman Jacobs

 

            “Silence!” the High Judge roared.

            The hall fell silent immediately. The hair on Lambert’s arms stood up

            “We are gathered today.” The High Judge began. “To decide on the fate of Lambert!”

            Lambert could feel dozens of pairs of eyes on the back of his head. He was standing in front of the High Judge, with heavy iron shackles around his wrists. On either side of him there was a guard dressed in full armour and holding a spear. The guards stood upright and faced him, unflinching.

            “You,” the High Judge looked down at Lambert from his podium, the slightest smirk on his face, “Have been charged with the crime of cowardice!”

            He could feel his face turn red. I’d rather be back in the holding cell, he thought. He preferred the cold, dark, rat infested cell that stank of old urine to this public humiliation.

            Three weeks ago, he was chosen to be part of a member of a monster hunting group. The members of this group were supposed to be chosen at random by drawing lots, but he suspected the sadistic old High Judge had somehow ensured that Lambert’s name would be drawn. He’d always had it in for Lambert. Since Lambert was a schoolboy, and the Judge was a teacher at the village school, the Judge had always enjoyed dishing out punishment to Lambert.

            The monster hunting group was put together at the behest of the Judge himself, but almost nobody volunteered, and lots had to be drawn among the young and able men to determine who would go and kill the beast.

            This beast lived deep in the forest, or so everyone assumed, and it came out at night to feed on the villagers’ livestock and crops, and occasionally, just occasionally, a villager would go missing in the middle of the night, never to be seen again.

            “Twenty "one nights ago, this man was chosen as part of a group. This group of…” he paused, “brave men were chosen to go into the depths of the forest and kill the foul monster that has been plaguing our land for months.”

            There was an audible murmur amongst the crowd. Lambert swallowed hard.

            “When the group neared the nest of the monster, this man turned on his heel and ran back to the village for safety. Rather than fighting valiantly against the beast, this man left his brothers out to die in the forest!”

            That wasn’t entirely true, Lambert thought. They had were nearing the entrance of the cave that served at the monster’s lair, when they suddenly heard a deep, guttural croak escaping from the heart of the cave. The entire group of eight men froze solid, then when they saw movement deep inside the cave, they all became spooked and scattered like leaves. The only problem was, Lambert was the only one to make it back to the village. Of course he had tried to explain what had happened, but no-one believed him, and the High Judge saw his chance to finally get rid of Lambert once and for all.

            “And the punishment for desertion, as we all know, is death!”

            Another murmur of agreement surged through the crowd. Lambert’s heart sank into his boots.

            “We look the Council of Elders to decide on this man’s guilt.” The High Judge looked at a row of elderly men with grey and white beards sitting at a long table at the far end of the court. “What is your verdict?”

            The Council of Elders turned to one another and spoke in low voices among themselves for what felt to Lambert like an eternity. He dared not turn around to face them. He knew he had caused enough trouble for himself so far, he didn’t want to break court customs on top of it all.

            “The Council wishes to declare its verdict.” Came a high-pitched, nasally voice from somewhere behind Lambert.

            “The Council of elders has decided that the accused is guilty, and shall be charged with death, effective immediately.”

            Lambert felt himself going sick. It felt like the blood was draining from his head, and thought he might pass out any minute. The two guards on either side of him moved forward and they each grabbed an arm. Lambert opened his mouth to plead for mercy, but it seemed utterly pointless, he would just shame himself further.

            “Unless…” a raspy old voice said. The guards stopped dragging him and looked at where the voice was coming from. The Judge also looked up, surprised at this interruption.

            “Unless, he proves himself worthy of remaining as a member of this village.” An elderly, hunched over man in a tattered brown cloak emerged from the crown of spectators.

            “Ahh. Master Ignatius. How kind of you to look out for the wellbeing of our little rat.” The judge said in a bitter tone. “But the decision has been made, he shall-”

            “The decision has been made, yes, but not all the members of the Council have been consulted.” The old man interrupted. “As you might well recall, High Judge, I also happen to be a member of the Council, and I have not given my opinion on the matter.”

            “Yes, but it has been decided that-”

            “I know what has been decided, High Judge, I’m not senile, not yet. As you may recall, the vote on any serious punishment has to be unanimous among the council.”

            Lambert stared at the old man. He could hardly believe what was unfolding before his eyes.

            The High Judge leaned heavily on the podium in front of him. “And you suggest we let the coward walk free?”

            “I don’t, no.” The old man gathered his breath for a moment, “I suggest we give him a chance to redeem himself.”

            The crowd that had fallen silent during the unexpected interruption now stirred up again.

            “And what exactly do you propose he has to do to redeem himself, Master Ignatius?” The High Judge was seething now. His knuckles grew white as he gripped the edges of his podium.

            “I propose…” the old man paused for dramatic effect, “that he prove himself by killing the monster in the woods.”

            A loud gasp escaped the crowd. Lambert’s mouth was hanging open. That was the last thing he had been expecting.

***

            The shackles around Lambert’s wrists fell to the ground with a loud clang. He was a free man, for the time being. The Council of Elders had decided that he be given a chance at redemption by slaying the monster in the woods. This terrified Lambert to death, but it meant he wouldn’t be executed immediately. He now had some time to think of a plan, and making plans was his one " and only " strong point.

            A hand shoved him hard from behind, and Lambert stumbled forward, a slight ‘uhmf’ escaping him.

            “You’re free to go, coward.” The guard said in a deep voice. “I’d like to see you try to kill that monster by yourself. That thing will shred you to ribbons and make a stew out of you!” He roared with laughter.

            Lambert didn’t think the joke was particularly funny, but he decided not to point it out. The guard was pork-necked, and towered over Lambert by at least a foot. Lambert turned on his heel and walked off at a considerable speed.

            Once he was clear of the dim-witted guard, he finally let out a sigh of relief.

            There was a rustling in the bush to his left. Lambert’s heart caught in his throat when the rustling grew louder, but all fear left him when he saw a small, apple cheeked man emerge from the brush.

            “D****t Thomas! You scared me.” Lambert scolded the little man, but his anger soon turned to relief.

            “Oh, uh, sorry Lamb.” The small man replied.

            Thomas, who barely cleared four feet, had a mixed ancestry. His father had been a well-to-do leprechaun and his mother a dwarven house-servant.

            “I got a chance at redemption.” Lambert started, but Thomas was already nodding his head.

            “I know, I was there when the hearing took place. You don’t stand a chance against the monster.”

            “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tom. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, I haven’t thought of a plan.” Lambert’s brow was furrowed furiously and he stared at the ground in front of him.

            “I don’t mean to be cynical, Lamb, I really don’t. But…” Thomas swallowed hard. “I don’t think you can just make a plan for this one. You have to leave the town. You have to find somewhere else to live.”

            Lambert was too deep in thought to hear the plea in Thomas’s voice.

            “I’m not leaving, Tom.” He said absently. He continued staring at the ground in front of him, the wheels in his head turning.

            “But Lamb, there’s nothing you can do against that thing!” The desperation in Thomas’s voice still didn’t reach Lambert, so Thomas decided to say something he knew would get his attention.

            “They hate us, Lamb. They think nothing of us. We have no significance to anyone in this town.”

            Finally Lambert looked up at Thomas, then he slowly started walking towards the main street of the village, with Thomas in tight pursuit.

            “They don’t hate us.” he said solemnly. But even to his own ears, Lambert didn’t sound very convincing. 

            “Well they certainly don’t love us.” He said, a tight smile pasted on his chubby face.

            Lambert seemed to consider this for a moment. Suddenly, a look of shock came over his face.

            “Wait! I have an idea.” Lambert said so loudly that a few people in the street looked at them.

            Thomas looked around and smiled in an attempted apology at the townsfolk.

            “Another ‘idea’ of yours?” he didn’t try to hide the scepticism in his voice.

            “You don’t understand, Tom,” Lambert explained impatiently. “I just had a stroke of absolute genius.”

            Thomas sighed. He had heard this spiel countless times before.

            “What we’re going to do,” Lambert said in a hushed tone, “is set a trap for the monster, kill it, and win the respect and adoration of the townspeople! We win all around!”

            Thomas stopped in his tracks and put his hands on his hips.

            “That’s your grand idea? We’re just going to kill the monster, and everyone will kiss our feet and carry us on their shoulders and throw flower petals at us? Grow up Lambert, you’re finished in this town, and you have to leave right away, before the Council have time to change their decision.”

            Lambert was taken aback by his friend’s harsh tone, this was the first time Lambert had ever seen Thomas angry or argumentative.

            “Don’t you think I can do it?” Lambert asked, irritation rising within him.

            “It’s not that.” Thomas sighed. “It’s just not worth the risk. Look, now’s your chance to finally be rid of this town and its people. You can start over in a new village! And if it’s respect you want, you can earn it from your new neighbours. But going after the beast, Lamb, that’ll get you killed.”

            Lambert looked at Thomas. His friend had never before made such a passionate argument. Usually Thomas just followed along with Lambert’s plan. Whether he followed along out of loyalty or just from having nothing better to do, Lambert did not know. But this was the first time his childhood friend had opposed his so vehemently. It seemed he was truly concerned about Lambert’s wellbeing, and he was truly terrified that the monster would kill Lambert if he went after it.

            Lambert turned his gaze back to the ground. He envisioned himself in front of the mouth of the cave that lead to the monster’s lair. Lambert had always been able to make a plan and wriggle himself out of trouble, but this was going to be different. This time he was staking his life. And for what? For the admiration of the townsfolk? Would he risk his life just so that people would look at him in awe? Lambert continued to think. A full minute passed before he spoke.

            “I’m going to do it.”

            He saw Thomas’s small shoulders sag, and Lambert felt a pang of guilt.

            “Hey,” Lambert said, bending down to Thomas’s level. “I’m not going to die,” he smiled, “because you’re going help me.”

            Thomas’s shot up.

            “What? I can’t help you! I can barely hold a sword, for Pete’s sake.”

            “You’re not going to help me kill it, you’re going to help me prepare to kill it.”

            “Okay.” Thomas said. “So what’s your plan?”

            “Well,” Lambert continued walking, they were now nearing the main street of the village. “I don’t have a plan yet.”

            “I thought you said you had a plan!” Thomas cried. More townspeople looked around at them

            “Shhh! My plan was to kill the monster and win over the people, I haven’t decided how we’re going to do it yet.”

            “Oh boy. This is going to be one heck of an adventure.”

***

            The blacksmith’s eyes were almost hidden by his immensely bushy black eyebrows. An equally thick, drooping moustache covered his mouth. He was sharpening an axe on a grindstone, and a dwarf was feverishly cranking the handle of the grindstone.

            Lambert looked at the collection of shiny swords and sharp axes on the blacksmith’s table. He had never in his life held a sword. The only thing close to a weapon he had ever wielded was a pitchfork.

            Thomas was also at the display table, his head barely clearing the top of the table. He reached out to a short sword at the edge of the table and dragged it closer to him. The moment the sword cleared the table, it dropped with a loud clang on the cobblestones of the street. Lambert looked over at Thomas and saw his little hands still wrapped around the handle, with the tip of the blade resting on the ground. The blacksmith stopped to look at them, released a ‘hmpf’, and then continued his work. Lambert helped Thomas pick up the sword and set it back on the table.

            The pair lost interest, and turned around to head back down in the direction they came from.

            “I don’t think a sword or axe is going to work. I’m not much of a warrior.” Lambert said. “This is starting to feel hopeless. Maybe I should just leave town and start a new life somewhere else.”

            Thomas didn’t respond, but Lambert knew his friend was thinking the same thing.

            The pair walked down the main street of the village, occasionally stopping to glance at the wares being sold by merchants. They passed a tall elf with a stern look on his face. The elf had an entire shelf full of scrolls and manuscripts, all bound by a red seal or a silken ribbon.

            A bit further along the road, a small crowd was gathered around a short, green goblin standing on a wooden crate. As they neared the crowd, they saw that the goblin was holding a small bottle with bright pink liquid in it.

            “And now, ladies and gentlemen,” the goblin was saying in a shrill voice, “I shall present to you the power of my magnificent Beard Growing Elixir.”

            The goblin looked around with a smile that stretched over his entire face.

            “You! Young man, would you like to volunteer?”

            Lambert couldn’t see who the goblin was speaking to, but then a young boy with messy brown hair climbed onto the stage. He seemed incredibly excited at being able to be a part of the goblin’s exhibition.

            The goblin pulled the cork from the top of the bottle and put it to the boy’s lips. With his other hand under the boy’s chin, the goblin helped the boy swallow the potion in one gulp. He stood back and everyone watched the boy with intense anticipation. Slowly a shadow seemed to form on his face. The shadow turned into a stubble, which turned into a full beard. After a few moments, the boy had a big brown beard that stretched down to his belt line.

            The crowd erupted in applause. The boy stepped down from the stage with a huge smile on his bearded little face.

            “The exhibition is now over, ladies and gentlemen. All potions are now for sale.”

            Immediately a large line formed in front of the goblin.

            Lambert watched for a few minutes as the goblin, now standing on a wooden crate behind a small stall, was selling bottles filled with liquid of a variety of colours Lambert had never seen.

            He was watching a young woman take a glass bottle of a sickly green colour and handing over one gold piece to the goblin when he felt a tug on his shirt sleeve.

            “I have an idea!” Thomas said excitedly. “You could buy an invisibility potion, then you can sneak into the monster’s lair and kill it.”

            Lambert looked at Thomas, who was practically bounding up and down with excitement. Lambert thought about it for a moment. He watched the long line of people.

            “That’s actually a very good idea, Tom. Come on.” He walked forward and fell in line.

            When they came to the stall, the goblin was looking at them with that same wide, toothy grin.

            “My good sir! How can I help you?” the goblin said to Lambert.

            “Do you have an invisibility potion?” Lambert asked bluntly.

            “Of course! Of Course!” he bent down behind the stall and Lambert heard a rustling and clinging of glass bottles together. The goblin popped back up, holding a bottle of the bluest blue Lambert had ever seen.

            “Makes you invisible for half a day, it does.” The goblin said proudly. “Only four gold pieces.”

            Lambert looked down at Thomas.

            “I don’t have four gold pieces on me! I only have two.”

            Looking surprised, the goblin leaned over the counter and noticed Thomas for the first time.

            Lambert’s heart dropped. This was one sure way for him to have killed the beast, and incidentally, the pair of them didn’t have enough gold.

            “There is, however, another option.” The goblin said “One can go into the forest and catch some blue running mushrooms to make your own potion. Making the potion isn’t that difficult, just throw a handful in a cauldron and boil them until they turn to liquid. The tricky part is catching them, and for that, I have just the thing you need.”

            The goblin disappeared back behind the counter. When he reappeared he was holding a large potion glass filled with a mucky brown liquid.

            “Speed Elixir.” The goblin said, holding the bottle up to Lambert’s face.

            “Can’t catch the little buggers without it. And for you, only one piece of gold and eight silvers.” The goblin had that impossibly wide smile on his face again.

            Lambert looked at Thomas again, who sighed and started searching his pockets for his last two gold pieces. He handed them over to Lambert, who gave the goblin his money and took the potion.

            “Thanks a plenty!” the goblin said with a cackle as Lambert and Thomas walked away.

***

            It was late in the afternoon, and Lambert and Thomas were making their way down the hill on which the town was situated, towards the forest. The sun was just setting, and the tops of the tall trees were illuminated by an orange glow.

            Lambert looked into the depths of the forest. Suddenly, the forest seemed very ominous to him. This was the same forest in which he had found himself almost a month ago, where all his companions had gone missing and only he had come out alive. This was where the monster lived.

            “I suppose I’d better get going then.” Lambert said to Thomas.

            “I’ll wait here while until you come back.” Thomas was also looking at the woods.

            Lambert started making his way towards the treeline. When he reached it, he looked back at Thomas, who was standing stock still, watching the forest.

            The forest was silent. No wind blew through the trees. No leaves rustled. There was only the snapping of twigs under Lambert’s boots. Occasionally a small animal scampered up a tree or into a burrow. Around him, a mist had crept in, and he could only see a few dozen feet ahead of him. Lambert wondered what the chances were of him encountering the beast.  He thought of that guttural groan the monster had made that day at the cave. He wondered if he would have the courage to go into cave when the time came. The thought of having an invisibility potion made him feel much better, but killing the monster would still be terrifying.

            He came across a small pond. There was a thin layer of mist on top of it. A small splash in the water caused Lambert to jump. He looked at where ripples were forming in the water. The pond was too murky to see anything beyond the surface. Lambert walked off at a brisk pace.

            The mist was growing thicker, and the last light was starting to fade. Lambert knew he would have to get out before it was dark, otherwise he would be stuck in the woods, and there was no conceivable way he would survive a night in the forest.

            He came across a small clearing in the forest covered in tall, green grass. In the middle of the clearing was a short, thick tree stump. Lambert looked around for a moment, then continued to the centre of the clearing. He stood on the tree stump and surveyed the area around him. At first he saw nothing, then a glitter of blue caught his eye. He watched the patch of grass where the glitter had appeared, and moments later, a small blue mushroom with tiny legs sprinted from one patch of grass to another.

            Excited, Lambert dug in his pockets to find his potion. He opened the glass vial and started drinking. The potion tasted like swamp water with slimy moss. He pulled a face as he swallowed the last gulp.

            Lambert waited in anticipation. In a matter of moments he would have the speed to catch the little blue mushrooms. A knot started to form in his stomach. Yes, the potion was kicking in, he thought. Finally, for the first time this month things were going his way.

            The knot in his belly tightened, and Lambert decided that the potion was in full effect. He hopped off the tree stump, and stumbled a bit as he hit the ground. When he had corrected himself, he made his way towards the spot where he had first seen the mushrooms. He waited silently and watched. A flash of blue out of the corner of his eye gave him the queue to start the chase, and he darted off in the direction of the mushroom.

            He expected himself to bound off in a flash of speed, but instead, his legs felt wobbly and weak. He sluggishly jogged towards the patch of grass and knelt down to search around. His head felt a bit numb, and a streak of blue flashed out of the grass and ran off at a tremendous speed. Lambert started to stand up, but toppled over and landed on his elbow. When he finally stood up, his vision was swimming. He tried to walk forward, but he could barely make out where to put his feet. He looked around at the trees in confusion. They had all become a solid black mass with a bit of grey sky above them. Lambert looked back down to the ground. There were small blue dots moving around all over the clearing. His vision began to fade further, and he felt his legs buckling underneath him. The blue dots became blurs, and Lambert passed out.

***

            He opened his eyes and saw the top of a thatch roof. A tremendous sting of pain coursed through his head. He slowly sat up and looked around him. When his eyes finally focused, he saw that he was in a small room. On the right of a shabby wooden door stood a massive bookcase, the size of which Lambert had never seen before. He saw no conceivable way of how the bookcase could have gotten into the room; the door was way too small to fit a bookcase even half the size through.

            The bookcase had eight shelves, each one stacked with thick, worn, leather-bound books with faded gold inscriptions. On top of the rows of books were scrolls, tied with brownish ribbons.

            To the left of the door was a large table with a half-moon shaped top carved out of yew. On the table was a single candle illuminating the room, around which were dozens of bottles, all varying in shape and size. Some of the bottles were small and round with tall, thin necks, and some were squat and short. Some of the bottles were filled with liquids of every conceivable colour, and some were empty. On the centre of the table was a small silver knife, and scattered around it were bits of tree bark, dark green moss, and a few orange butterfly wings.

            Lambert started to stand up off the bed, but another jab of sharp pain stung the back of his head, and he decided to remain seated. He considered lying down again, just to close his eye for a few minutes, when the door of the cottage swung open and cracked hard against the side of the bookshelf. It was pitch dark outside, and a figure stood in the doorway holding an oil lamp. The figure came into the cottage, and Lambert’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the hunched over figure in a tattered brown cloak. It was the old man from the council, the one who had stood up for him in court. Lambert started to say something, but he couldn’t think of anything to say, so he shut his mouth and waited for the old man to notice him. To Lambert’s dismay, the old man seemed to either be completely unaware of him, or was simply choosing to ignore him.

            The old man went to one side of the room and hung his cloak on the many coat hangers on the wall. Lambert noticed that the hangers all had old brown cloaks on them, all of them identical to the one the old man was wearing. The old man then made his way to the other side of the room, and leaned over the table with all the potions on it. He seemed to be looking for something specific. Lambert suddenly remembered the name of the old man. Ignatius. Master Ignatius. Finally the old man’s eyes fixed on something on the far end of the table, and he reached over and snatched it into the palm of his hand.

            “You won’t win their admiration by killing the monster.” Master Ignatius said, his back still turned to Lambert.

            Lambert was so flustered, he simply said, “Oh.”

            “And the potion you purchased from the goblin at the street market was fake. I believe the colour was brown?”

            Lambert was astounded at the old mans knowledge.

            “A murky brown coulour is usually a mixture of squashed toad and water from a creek. If you add a teaspoon of dried Quig tree bark, it becomes a sleeping potion.”

            Lambert thought about the smile on the goblins face when he had bought the potion, and the thought brought bile up his throat.

            “Did you find and carry me all the way from the woods?”

            “I found you, but I did not carry you.” Master Ignatius said, studying the small potion in his hand. Lambert saw a faint golden glow emit from behind the old man. “The point I’m trying to make, young man, is that you should have listened to your friend, the Imp. You should have taken off when you had the chance.

            “Weren’t you the one who suggested that I be given another chance to live?”

            “Yes, it was me.”

            “Then why do you want me to leave the town instead of killing the monster?”

            Finally Master Ignatius turned around and looked at Lambert.

            “Because I felt pity on you! How could anyone blame you for running with your tail between your legs when you stood in front of that cave and waited for the beast? A meagre excuse for a man like you cannot be punished for being what he is at the very centre of his heart.”

            Lambert waited for him to finish, to tell him what he was at the centre of his heart. But the old Master never did finish, so Lambert asked him:

            “I can’t turn my back on the townspeople. I’ve already run away once, I won’t run again.”

            The old man turned around again and went back to his table.

            “You said I won’t win the admiration of the town if I kill the monster in the woods. What do you mean by that?” Lambert asked him.

            “I meant it as simply as I said it, you won’t win their admiration, nor their respect. In fact, if the High Judge can help it, you won’t even be allowed back into the town.”

            “How can you know such a thing? The small council decided "“

            “I know what the small council decided! I was there myself. I’m not a senile old fool, as you all seem to think!”

            Lambert continued sitting there silently and stared at the old man. Master Ignatius sighed.

            “I suppose you won’t give up your quest of killing the beast, will you?”

            “I can’t.”

            “I can’t!” the old man scoffed. “Of course you can, you can take the chance that I gave you, pack your things and leave this wretched little village behind once and for all. But you choose to keep your meagre self-esteem intact. May I remind you, your bravery and courage won’t be rewarded when you’re dead.”

            “But I promised to kill the beast! I gave my word in front of everyone "“

            “Enough! It’s time you were on your way. I believe you have a monster to kill”

            Lambert angrily stood up off the bed, bumped his head on a book shelf, and plopped back down. He stood up a second time, more carefully this time, and made for the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob.

            “I don’t have any mushrooms. I can’t make a potion of invisibility.”

            “And I suppose you want my help? Again?” the old man was becoming bitterly irritated by Lambert’s presence.

            “I need something, anything. Even if it’s just advice on how to kill it, or which ingredients to mix. Please!”

            “Get out!” Master Ignatius yelled.

            Lambert’s heart sank. With a sigh, he went through the door and out into the dark night.

***

            It was well past midnight, and the moon shone huge and bright in the cloudless sky. Lambert walked away from the small round cottage and back towards the trees. He found a patch of grass between two birch trees, and slumped down on it. He felt something in his left hand pocket. He leaned back and touched what felt like the shape of a small potion bottle. He sighed when he remembered it was the fake potion that the goblin had sold him at the market.

            Now he had no choice. He had to leave the village this very night, or he would be executed in the morning. He considered going back to town to tell Thomas the situation, but decided against it; he had taken enough risks over the past two day, best to just get on his way.

            Lambert stood up, wondering which direction to go in, when a faint glow below him caught his eye. He looked down to his left pocket to see a slight golden glow being emitted from between the fibres of his pants. He stuck his hand in the pocket and pulled out a bottle filled with glowing golden liquid. How on earth did that get into my pocket? He wondered. He didn’t remember buying it, and he had no recollection of stealing it. Then the notion struck him. It had been the old man. He had somehow slipped that potion into his pants pocket. But how was that possible? And what was the purpose of the potion?

            Was Master Ignatius trying to tell him something? Was he hinting that Lambert drink the potion now? Then it struck Lambert. This was something to help him kill the monster. What else could it be?

            He realised he had to make a decision now, as the dawn of his execution was only a few hours away. He thought about the monster. The potion would have to do something that was of use. Perhaps it was an invisibility potion. Then Lambert thought about leaving. Now was his last chance to set off and start a life far, far away. He could start anew, raise a family, grow crops, live to a ripe old age.

            For minutes Lambert stared at the mysterious liquid in his hand, then he bounded off into the woods.

***

            He knew the way to the beast’s cave. He followed the path through a cluster of small trees, over a hill, around a swamp, and through some dense brush. Finally Lambert arrived at line of incredibly tall trees. He entered the treeline, following the trodden path. The moonlight barely shone through the dense canopy of trees, and it was almost impossible for him to see where he was going. He slowed to a walk, and searched around for the rocky outcrop that housed the cave. Once he spotted it through the trees, he made his way towards it. Lambert could see the entrance of the cave, even though it was just a black patch on the dark stone outcrop. Finally he stood in front of the cave entrance, looking in. he half expected something to jump out at him through the dark, and the hairs on his arms started to stand on end.

            His feet were frozen to the spot. He knew he had to go in, but he could not make his feet move. He clenched the potion tightly in his hand, and finally took one tentative step towards the entrance, then another, then another. As he went into the cave, he broke out into a cold sweat. The moonlight seemed to fade away, and nothing illuminated the path ahead. Lambert stopped for a moment, then he help the bottle up in his hand, his palm now sweating, and used the faint glow of the potion to see in front of him.

            The cave didn’t grow narrower as Lambert had expected it to. Instead, its roof seemed to increase in height the deeper he went. Anxiety started to well up in him. The monster couldn’t be very far away. He realised that he had come utterly unprepared. He had no weapon, no companions, nothing except for the bottle the old Master had slipped into his pocket. Even if it was a potion of invisibility, he had no way to kill the beast.

            Lambert was still pondering the purpose of the golden potion when he heard a deep rumble. He stopped dead in his tracks and froze. The rumbling continued, and it was coming from the depths of the cave. Lambert fumbled with the bottle in his hand, pulled out the cork, and swallowed the liquid in one gulp. The flowery taste of the potion mixed with the bitter taste of anxiety in the back of his throat. Now there was no light, just total darkness.

            Lambert stood stock still. The grumble was still in the distance, and he knew he would have to get closer to find its source. He turned around and saw a small sliver of moonlight shining around a corner of the cave. He held up his hand to see if he was invisible yet, but to his dismay, the sliver of light went black the instant he raised his hand in front of it.

            It ought to kick in soon, he thought, and decided to take a few steps deeper into the cave. After a full minute he had taken only four steps, then he turned around again and held up his hand. Still, his hand was not transparent. Lambert decided he would not go any deeper until he was fully invisible. He sat down quietly with his back to the entrance and listened to the sound coming from the depths of the cavern.

            As he sat and listened, the grumbling seemed to take on a different form. At first Lambert thought it was his imagination, but then he started to make out words in between the noise. Slowly the grumbling became more and more understandable, as if Lambert could understand what the sounds meant.

            “Who is there?” he thought he heard.

            Lambert dared not respond, for fear that he might be hearing things, and he might give away his presence by speaking.

            Then the grumbling sounded like, “Who goes there?”

            Again Lambert ignored the voice, but now it was starting to make him nervous, who was speaking and grumbling at the same time? By the fifth time he heard the sentence being repeated, he decided it might be wise to respond.

            “I am a hunter! Come to kill the monster in this cave!” he yelled. He heard his voice echoing in the distance. He quickly added, “And there are many more of us outside the cave!”

            The grumbling went silent. Lambert held his breath and strained to hear any sound. It was dead quiet. He stood up as quietly as he could and looked behind him one last time. He still hadn’t turned invisible.

            Then a deep voice came from right above his head.

            “I see but one man.”

            Lambert shrieked and stumbled back. He tripped on a rock and fell onto the hard cavern floor. He looked up, but could see nothing. As silence descended again he could make out a faint breathing coming from somewhere on the cavern roof.

            Lambert knew there was no point in running for the exit now. So he said, “There are " uh " twenty of us outside.”

            “No, there aren’t.” the deep voice said from above. “You’ve come all alone.”

            Lambert could feel adrenaline pulsating through his body, from his kidneys to behind his ears, everything prickled.

            After a few moments of silence the voice said, “You have come to kill me, haven’t you?”

            Lambert considered his options.

            “Yes.” He said meekly.

            There was an uncomfortable silence, and then it asked, “Who sent you?”

            “Uhmm… it was the Judge.”

            A booming laughter came from the ceiling, causing Lambert to nearly jump out of his skin.

            “The Judge! Why, my dear fellow, the Judge is the reason I am here in the first place!”

            Lambert was too afraid to register what the monster was saying, so he sat in a shocked silence.

            “He and I made a pact.” The monster continued. “I would help him attain the title of High Judge, and in turn I could feed off the village residents, as long as I didn’t bother him nor the lands of the few rich villagers.”

            “That’s not possible.” Lambert said. “How could you help him attain his position?”

            “By striking fear into the hearts of the people, young man.”

            He was feeling relief that he had not yet been eaten, but suspicion slowly crept into the back of his mind.

            “So, he asked you to terrorise the villagers?”

            “That’s right.”

            “So that he could offer a helping hand…”

            Lambert trailed off. Picture was starting to form in his mind.

            “I remember now, I remember him offering the Council of Elders his service. He promised the town that he would get rid of the monster, and in turn, they elected him as High Judge.”

            “Clever young man, you are!”

            Lambert started to say something, but then a thought crossed his mind.

            “But then why did he send a hunting party out for you? You and the Judge had a pact.”

            Thunderous laughter echoed through the dark cavern.

            “It would seem he has lost his use for me. Now the lion has become the sacrificial lamb.”

            “So he fooled both you and the town.”

            “It would seem so.” said the monster.

            Lambert was feeling confident the beast would not kill him on the spot, so he carefully stood up from where he had fallen down.

            “Are you going to eat me?” he asked, his voice grew stronger now.

            The monster was silent for a long while.

            “Why don’t we make a pact?” It finally said. “I won’t kill you, if you swear to expose the Judge’s treachery to the village.”

            Lambert wasted no time, and agreed immediately.

            “But how can I prove it? The townsfolk will never believe me.”

            A long silence ensued. Lambert was just starting to grow uncomfortable when something dropped from the ceiling of the cavern. Lambert felt around on the ground in front of him and his hand grasped something round and hard. It was a token of some kind, with a thin chain attached to it.

            “That is the Seal of the High Judge. I demanded the Judge give me a bargaining chip in case he go back on his word. It would seem he has forgotten that I own the Seal, or he believed I would have no use for it.”

            Lambert knew what the seal meant. It was passed on from one high judge to the next. It was proof that the Judge had made his pact with the monster. He tucked the seal into his pocket, then tentatively turned around and made for the exit of the cave, the whole time aware of eyes staring at him.

            “And remember,” the beast said in the distance. “We seldom know who the real monsters are.”

***

            Half a sun was peeking over the village when Lambert came out of the forest. The dawn of Lambert’s execution had arrived. He hurried back to the town court. The sentencing was to take place at the crack of dawn, so he arrived at an already packed courtroom. This time there were six guards instead of just the two. Out of breath, Lambert walked to the centre of the large wooden hall. On his way there, in his state of exhaustion, his foot caught on the tiled floor and he fell hard onto the ground. A quiet laughter filled the room, then quickly died away. He stood in front of the podium, and the Judge was looking down at him.

            “You’re late.” He said. “I assume by your not running away that you managed to comply with the terms of you sentence.” The Judge said with obvious scepticism, but Lambert could hear a slight tone of worry in his voice.

            “I… yes.” Lambert was unsure how to start. “I didn’t kill the monster, but…” he added quickly. “I have proof that the High Judge,” he pointed up at the Judge, “had made a pact with the monster!”

            The courtroom gasped in unison. The Judge recoiled in shock, and before Lambert could explain, the Judge yelled, “Guards! Seize him!”

            Four guards moved towards Lambert, with the remaining two blocking any way out.

            “Wait, I have proof!” Lambert yelled over the bustle of the courtroom.

            “Take him to the block and prepare him for execution!” the Judge said quickly.

            Lambert struggled against the guards, trying to grab the attention of the crowd.

            “Wait!” screamed a high pitched, nasal voice. It was the spokesperson for the Council of Elders. “If the defendant has proof, he has the right to present it to the court.”

            Lambert felt a pang of relief. The guards loosened their grip slightly and brought him back to the centre of the hall.

            “Present your evidence.” The voice commanded.

            Lambert could not see who was speaking, but he immediately stuck both hands in his pockets and felt for the seal. It wasn’t there.

            Lambert felt fear course through his body, and tasted the familiar bitter taste at the back of throat.

            “Well, where is it?” the voice asked.

            “I, uh…” Lambert trailed off. He felt everywhere for the seal, all over his body, even in his boots, but he could not find it.

            “Take him away at once!” the Judge screamed frantically. The guards obeyed his order and grabbed Lambert again. As they were ushering him out towards the execution block, a familiar voice rose above the commotion.

            “I found it! It’s here! I found it!”

            It was Thomas, and he was standing where Lambert had fallen, holding up the Seal of the High Judge.

            The crowd gasped in unison. There were cries of astonishment and confusion, and here and there a word of ‘liar’ and ‘criminal’ were uttered. The Judge himself stood frozen at the podium, his eyes wide as saucers.

            Finally, a woman yelled, “You criminal! How could you do such a thing to your own town?”

            More accusations were hurled at the Judge from the crowd. The guards holding Lambert looked in one direction, then the other, as they tried to make out what was unfolding before them. It was the beef necked guard from the dungeons that eventually said, “You ought to be in chains.” But it came out as more of a question than a statement.

            Finally, the high pitched voice from the Council shouted, “Arrest that man!” and the guards released Lambert and went after the Judge. The Judge scrambled back and forth, using the podium as a barrier between him and the guards, until they eventually encircled him on both sides and pinned him to the ground.

***

            When all the commotion had settled, and the Judge was in the dungeon, Lambert and Thomas walked out of the courtroom to a round of applause, which slowly grew louder as more and more people streamed out the side doors of the courts and filled the streets. A tiny man, about three feet in height and wearing a bright green suit, walked up to Lambert and shook his hand.

            “I must say, young man, I am truly impressed by your determination and grit.” He said in a high, nasally voice.

            More people crowded around Lambert. They shook his hand and patted him on his back. An old lady even kissed him on the hand and said “Blessed your soul, boy.”

            That afternoon Lambert and Thomas stood at the northern end of the road leading out to town. Lambert had his few possessions packed in a sack that he flung over his shoulder.

            “You know, I still think you should stay.” Said Thomas. “You’ve finally won the affection of the town. Leaving now makes no sense.”

            “I’m not sure the affection is what I’m really after.” Lambert answered. “There’s so much more out in the world than just this little town.”

            “I suppose. But you’re my only friend in this town, Lamb.”

            “Nonsense. Now that you’ve been inducted into the Council of Elders, people will have much more respect for you. You’ll make new friends, I promise.” Lambert said with a smile.

            The afternoon sun beat down on them, and the two friends stared off into the distance.

            “I’d better be off.” Lambert said, and after a shake of hands and a clap on the back, he started walking off.

            On the hill just outside of town, Lambert looked back to wave to Thomas one last time. As he turned back to the road, he glimpsed something in the treeline of the forest. He saw an immensely tall, thin figure, as black as night, standing in the shadows of the trees. Lambert nodded to the figure, and took the road.

Author's Note

My first short story, I would like as much critical feedback as possible.

Reviews

[MightyMouse]

I have to say I enjoyed this. It seemed a little rushed in some areas, and there where a few errors (Ex. extra words, or wrong words), but it was very well written. I also noticed that you've had a lot of views, but nobody has reviewed this yet. I can't stand it when people do that, so I'm reviewing you. I do like the overall themes of the story as well. "We seldom know who the real monsters are" is probably my favorite line. I'm not very good at this critiquing thing since I like just about everything, but I hope this helps.